St George

Someone who witnessed Corrinne and I trying to figure out what day of the week it was asked if we often forgot what day of the week it is. The answer is yes, yes we do. Often. There’s really no need to know in our lives. We avoid driving on Sundays (fewer auto parts stores and mechanics open), but otherwise dates and days of the week are not real pertinent to our lives.

All which is long-winded way of saying we recently ended up with a night between the end of one reservation and the beginning of another with nowhere to go. We spent it here:

It was better than it looks. There was a park across the street that kept the kids busy and there’s a marina just behind where I took this picture, which always provides for entertaining characters. We met two brothers who’d been sailing for I don’t know how long, but they grew up on more or less the same street I did and remembered when it was full of boat builders. There wasn’t a boat builder left by the time I was born.

They had stories though, good stories. Most of which I’m not at liberty to repeat here. But if you ever see a couple sun worn men driving a golf cart around Apalachicola, talk to them if you can. And watch out. The one driving is technically blind.

The next day we headed over to St. George Island where we had rented a beach house to meet up with some of Corrinne’s family. The weather did not cooperate, but we still had fun.

We rented the house so there would be room for everyone, but it’s a little odd for us to be anywhere but the bus. Even when we plan it. It was also very strange to spend so much time indoors. I’d never really thought about how much we’re outside until we were inside for a week.

As soon as Corrinne’s family left it got nice and warm and sunny again, though the wind took a couple more days to die down completely. We managed to get in some beach time anyway.